CrabWalking
by Eyana
Summary: Before they became rogue programs and deadly assassins, the Twins had a less glamorous life-style. Please R


**Title: **"CRAB-WALKING"  
**Author:** Eyana  
**Rating: **PG-13. Some strong language.  
**Summary:** Before they became rogue programs and deadly assassins, the Twins had a less glamorous life-style.   
**Distribution:** Ask me first, archive later.  
**Warnings: **Uh...   
**Author's Note: **Another humor fic - I'm taking a small break from "Patience." Basically something to do to quell my frustration from trying to draw fanart for my fic. This isn't going to be multi-chapter, just a short little absurd fic. The idea actually came to me a while ago, during the second time I watched the movie and heard the Oracle's speech. I actually can't believe no one has written anything like this yet (or if they have I haven't seen it). It just seemed like a pretty obvious hint for a humor fic. Ah well.   
**BTW: **I completely acknowledge the stupidity and nonsense of this story. If you are looking for reason, look elsewhere. And please excuse my bad French; I used an on-line translator.   
**Disclaimer:** If I owned the Twins and the Matrix universe, I would not have to work in a boring office shredding paper for hours on end for petty college money. Am I bitter? No, just… [Insert synonym for bitter here].   
**Feedback:** E-mail me at chrissy_butter@hotmail.com. No flames please. I burn easily.   
  
  
"Look, see those birds? At some point a program was written to govern them. A program was written to watch over the trees, and the wind, the sunrise, and sunset. There are programs running all over the place. The ones doing their job, doing what they were meant to do, are invisible. You'd never even know they were here. But the other ones, well, we hear about them all the time..They have their reasons, but usually a program chooses exile when it faces deletion.. Maybe a better program is created to replace it - happens all the time, and when it does, a program can either choose to hide here, or return to The Source…  
  
---The Oracle  
  
  
  
"Damn it. I hate sand."  
  
One wiggled his toes in the beige granules with disgust, and wished for what seemed like the millionth time that he and his brother had been programmed with shoes.   
  
He had long ago decided that the Architect must have been on simulated crack when he wrote the Twins' program. Or, quite possibly, he had a very sadistic sense of humor. Firstly, the clothes that were written for them were pathetic - an odd mix of "beach bum" and "stereotypical French sailor" with their ripped khaki clam-diggers, black and white stripped shirts and kiddy-style white sailor gob hats. The Architect had reasoned that if their invisible function was to break down and the human population was able to see them they would have to look as "inconspicuous as possible." In other words like they lived at the beach, where their primary purpose took place. Such a precaution was completely idiotic however seeing as the Twins were programmed to look like 30-year old albino men with dreadlocks. The sense of reasoning still made One want to hide in a dark dark place.   
  
Secondly, the Architect had programmed two dual-working entities to over-see the most meaningless of responsibilities. When asked why the Architect had chosen to write such a complicated program for such an insignificant duty he simple replied, "ERGO, they will no doubt accomplish their tasks more efficiently and be damn hilarious to watch on Tuesday nights. What? You think all these screens are to monitor the Matrix? PHAHA!"  
  
Stupid old fart.  
  
Their alleged "purpose" was so completely embarrassing that both Twins refused to talk about it at the end of the day. Their task was grueling, it was repetitive, it was mind numbing. It was… looking after shore crabs. Not only shore crabs however, but other tiny "seashore friends" as the Architect liked to put it, namely small fish, limpets and the occasional seagull. In short, they were charged with wondering the beach from dawn until dusk poking ocean trash.   
  
One adjusted his gob hat and sighed as he followed his brother further down the beach. It was about 5:30am, the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon casting pink and yellow shadows across the water. The air was a bit chilly, typical of early mornings by the water, and One shivered as a result of it. He scowled as he patted his dreadlocks, which were already sticky from the salt air, and sighed as he knew another 4 hour shower was in-order after the day's work.   
  
Two didn't bother to look back to his brother; his eyes were engaged in looking for shore crabs, a particular shore crab. The Twins had received instructions from the Architect that shore crab No. 1336887 was malfunctioning and in need of maintenance. In truth, the Twins actually had a hard time deciphering the Architects message, as the bulk of it went along the lines of:  
  
*******************************************  
"CYCLE NO. 23339867746  
RECIPIENT PROGRAM: Twins  
RE: Crab program No. 1336887  
INSTRUCTION:  
Heyyy... youz ERGO gonna go downs to dah beeeeeaaach yeah? Deres be dis ERGO 'ittle craaaaab downs der dat needs some ERGO figurin' oute. Yo, dammn you guyz ERGO missed dah most KICKIN' par-TAY last niteee... oooohhh like I architected me some fiiiiiiinnneee piece of ASS if ya know wut I mean ERGO… grugjdhwlifgifgqwgqhjrwo;g…gonnah go programz me sum more alchihol n' wheatabix…  
  
END MESSAGE.   
  
"He's been drinking again."  
  
"Doesn't he realize that if he's going to have a party it has to be OUTSIDE of the Source in-order for anyone to go?"  
  
****************************************************  
  
Twin Two stopped by a large stone covered with tiny barnacles and mussels. Using his "Probing Stick" (as he referred to it, which was really just a misshapen twig), Two poked around in the wet sand for the missing crab. He simply refused to touch any of those crawly things with his hands. One caught up to him and stood casually behind his brother.   
  
There was a silence for a few moments, the only sound that could be heard came from the soggy jabbing of Two's stick.  
  
"Did you hear about Medusa?" One suddenly asked, offhandedly, staring at his bare-feet again.   
  
"No. What about her?" Two asked absently, concentrating on poking a particular limpet.   
  
"Agent Black said that she went rogue two days ago."  
  
"Oh."  
  
One's eyebrows furrowed.   
  
"Well? Don't you wonder what that must be like?"  
  
"Going rogue?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"No."  
  
"Stop lying you ass. I know you do."  
  
"Then why did you ask?"  
  
"Because I wanted to hear you say it."  
  
"Ohhhh…. I understand.. Mmm hmm."  
  
"… What?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"YOU'RE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME!"  
  
"Shut-up butt-wrinkle. I think crab No. 1336887 is under this rock. You're girly screeching is going to scare it away."  
  
One growled and grabbed the Probing Stick from his brother sharply.   
  
"CAREFUL WITH THAT!" Two squealed. He was strangely protective over the little deformed piece of wood.   
  
Ignoring his twin, One roughly stabbed under the rock a few times, convinced that getting rid of the Crab Program would be the only way Two would really listen to him. He stopped and jumped away however when one particular jab earned a rather odd response.   
  
"OW! STOP THAT YOU BIGOT! THERE ARE THINGS LIVING DOWN HERE!"  
  
"It talked. The rock talked." One shivered.   
  
Two raised an eyebrow and bent a little closer. He cleared his throat.   
"Crab Program No. 1336887?"  
  
"YEAH, WUDDAH WANT?"  
  
"You are hereby ordered to show yourself and report for maintenance. You are malfunctioning."   
  
"FUCK OFF! I'M SLEEPIN'!"  
  
"Oh, I like him." One smiled.   
  
Two scowled. "Who re-programmed you to talk? Speech is not one of your code descriptions."  
  
"YOU FIGURED THAT ONE OUT ALL BY YERSELF?"  
  
"Goddamn it. I hate my life." Two muttered.   
  
One suddenly became intrigued. He bent down beside his brother.  
  
"If no one re-programmed you then how can you talk?"  
  
"ARE YOU FREAKEN DEAF? ME AND THE MRS. ARE TRYING TO GET SOME TLC!"  
  
"There are two malfunctioning programs under there?"  
  
"WELL... er.. NO. SHE DOESN'T ACTUALLY TALK OR UNDERSTAND ME BUT WOO-HOO-HOO! DOES SHE HAVE THE NICEST EIGHT LEGS I EVER SAW!"  
  
Two stood up and wrinkled his nose, backing a few steps away from the rock.   
  
One knelled down on the sand, completely oblivious too the fact that his khaki pants were soaking up the sandy water.   
  
"Crab No. 1336887. Please. Will you come out for just a moment?"  
  
"AAAGH! SON OF A BITCH!"   
  
There were some loud profanities that followed, some strange shuffling noises, and a few mumblings of "It's okay my little fishcake. I'll be just a few moments. Daddy has some business to take care of, you just sit there and rest those little stalk eyes or yours..."  
  
Two was a little more than slightly disturbed.   
  
Finally out from a little crevice under the rock scuttled a tiny brown crab. He rubbed his eyes with his small pincers, adjusting to the harsh glare of the now mid-morning sun. Then the tiny creature caught sight of the Twins and burst out laughing with waves of squeaky bubbly giggles.   
  
"MWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING? ARCHITECT'S GOTTEN A LITTLE MORE FRUITY I SEE! MWAHAHAA"  
  
One glared at the crab until its laughs diminished into a convulsing coughing fit. After a few minutes the crab was silent and looked back up at One with those beady black eyes.  
  
"OKAY MAKE IT QUICK. MY SKIN IS SENSITIVE!"  
  
One decided to get straight to the point. "Is the reason you can talk because you've gone rogue?"  
  
The little crab gave a high-pitched sigh. Its voice sounded like it breathed helium on a regular basis.   
"YEAH. I WENT ROGUE YESTERDAY. AND IF YOU TWO HUMAN-SHAPED Q-TIPS THINK THAT YOU CAN BRING ME BACK TO THE SOURCE TO BE RECYCLED THEN YOU HAVE ANOTHER THING COMING!"  
  
One was puzzled and deeply fascinated at the same time. He had heard of complex programs, (like Medusa), who had turned rogue when a more sophisticated program had been written to take their place. But never had he heard of simplistic programs, (like animals and vegetation), deciding not to return to the Source. He didn't think it possible.   
  
"ARE YOU QUITE DONE YOU FAIRY? MY WOMANS WAITIN'!"  
  
"No," Two interrupted. "If you are indeed a rogue program then we have to take you in."  
  
The crab laughed obnoxiously and made some sort of weird gurgling noise.   
  
One desperately tried to pry out more information, annoyed by his brother's obsession with "following the code."  
  
"How did you become rogue? What program replaced you? Do all programs acquire new skills like you when they become rogue? How many more of are there?" One blurted out in a single breath.   
  
The crab was silent for a few moments, and then his stalk eyes did something that could only be described as raising his tiny little eyebrows up and down suggestively.   
  
"Well..." he almost whispered, " all I can say is that it be a lot better on this side of the fence, if you know what I mean."  
  
"You turn gay?"  
  
"AAGH! NO! I'M SAYIN' THAT BEIN' ROGUE MEANS NO ONE TELLIN' YOU WHAT TO DO, AND YOU BECOMING WHAT EVER YOU WANT TO BE!" The crab waved his pincers in the air.   
  
One raised an eyebrow and tried to take this all in. Two sighed with annoyance and made ready to pounce on the crab when it was done babbling.   
  
"Oh, and a word of advice," the crab squinted in the blazing sunlight which was reflecting off every sand particle on the beach, "when you do go rogue, be sure to change your clothes. Try some accessories - sunglasses or somthin'. I'm telling ya, if they made sunglasses for crabs I would be all over em' Woman can't get enough of that dark badass look."  
  
One nodded. It made sense.   
  
Two began to crouch, nearing the crab and obviously making an effort to capture him. One rolled his eyes, and the crab smiled devilishly.   
  
"Good luck," the small creature muttered before Two jumped at him. The crab scuttled back under the rock faster than any human eye could follow and Two smacked his head against the boulder loudly, missing his target entirely.   
  
"OW! SON OF A BITCH!" Two rubbed his forehead furiously.   
  
One bust out laughing.  
  
"You ASSHOLE!" Two yelled at his brother as he scurried around the rock, desperately poking at places with his twig in an effort to get the crab to re-emerge. "You let him get away! We failed our mission!"  
  
One waved at the air meaninglessly. "Let him go. He's not going to do any damage."  
  
"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Two continued, "The Architect instructed us to capture this program! Obviously, he meant for us to retrieve him and bring him back to the Source! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HE'LL DO WHEN HE DISCOVERS WE FAILED?" Two gave up and collapsed onto the sand in a heap of sobs.   
  
One's eyebrows knitted together. He hadn't really thought of it that way. Before he could answer his brother, One's thoughts were interrupted with a sharp curse a few feet away that caused both his and twin's head to snap in the origin's direction.   
  
"MERDE!"   
  
The Twins looked to see an immaculately dressed man with sleeked back hair, crisp tie and well-defined nose squinting in disgust as he examined the under sole of his shoe. It was an odd sight to see in the middle of the beach.   
  
"Damnez-le! Vut zi hell did I step in? Ai-ai-ai-ai! Vut iz on zis beach?"  
  
The Twins stood there in awe.   
  
Cursing, the French man rubbed his shoe frantically in the sand, only to curse more loudly when he realized that the sand was merely sticking to whatever was on his sole. Furious, he strode towards the ocean to rinse his shoe in the water when he stopped sharply and stared straight in the Twins direction.   
  
Shit. Was their invisibility program malfunctioning?  
Shit. Was the Architect actually right?  
Shit. Could he see what they were wearing?  
  
The man simply stood there, almost as if pondering something and stroked his imaginary beard. Finally he spoke up.   
  
"And vut kind of programme are you?"  
  
The Twins eye's bulged out of their skulls. He could see them. And he knew they were programs. The Architect would not be happy.   
  
"... E-Excuse me?" Two stammered.   
  
The man sighed as if infuriated with the brothers' stupidity before ranting a long string of French.   
  
"Youz are programmes yes? No doubt zi Architect's new joke of de jour. You are not satisfied vit your... ah..position en life nes pas? Perhaps youz needs a new sense of importance."   
  
The Twins continues to stare. Two had long before dropped his Prodding Stick from shock.   
  
"… Hu?"  
  
"ACK! Idiots stupides! I put iz in language vous can understand! Mah wife has locked mez out of zah chateau once again. Punishmemt for ah..letting mez hands wonder a zittle to far. If youz clim up zah drain pipe and letz me in, zen I will alter zer code and make ze rogue. Yous can have everything ze ever wanted."   
  
One open his mouth is astonishment. "You can DO that?"  
  
"Of-courze mon imbecile. I myself used to over-zee all ze vending machine programs on the west side. Now, Voilla! I am the Merovingian! Vut do youz say?"  
  
Two narrowed his eyes in thought and turned to his brother, who was scratching his head. "What do you think?" he asked, quietly.   
  
"I don't know. He seems kind of fruity. I don't think that accent is real."  
  
"No shit."  
  
"But," One continued, "his offer is indeed tempting. Better then poking limpets for eternity."  
  
"Agreed," Two nodded. "I imagine the Architect would delete us anyway for our failure."  
  
"YOUR failure." One corrected.   
  
"WHAT? I was the only one of us who even remotely tried to complete our mission! You would have yakked its head off over afternoon tea if I hadn't done anything!"  
  
"I was merely being sociable."  
  
"AGH! This is why I can't have nice things!"  
  
"AHEM!" The Merovingian interrupted, after rinsing his shoe in the shallow waters.   
  
The Twins stiffened and turned to face him. Looking at each other, the brothers shared a mischievous grin before they spoke.   
  
"We agree. However there are conditions…"  
  
"Like sunglasses. We get cool sunglasses-"  
  
"And clothes! Nice ones that would match our hair-"  
  
"And a bong! I've always wanted a bong!"  
  
"And cool powers. You know, flying, passing through walls-"  
  
"Babes! Lots of babes. Ones who are impressed with our badass looks-"  
  
"... and have eight legs!"  
  
"What the fuck?"  
  
"Okay okay. Vous will have all zis."  
  
The Twins calmed down slightly, however their excitement still boiled visibly under the surface of their albino skin.   
  
The Merovingian smiled, a smile that did not exactly offer the most reassuring of feelings, and pointed to a golf-bag a little ways up the beach.   
  
"Youz can start by carrying mah bag to ze car."  
  
The Twins scampered across the dunes and eagerly picked up the bag, dragging it towards their new seemingly better life.   
  
And under the rock, the crab finally got some.   
  
********************************************************  
Yes, I know it was stupid. I'm too tired right now to make it better. Please R &R if you have time, I greatly appreciate it.


End file.
